"Well, the Lord inspired me with an idea. I recovered my presence of mind at once, and shouted out, 'People, it's a mistake, absolutely. I'm no spy, but a well-known mimic of celebrated personages and of animal sounds. Wouldn't you please give me a trial?' The men who had seized me shouted, 'No, he lies; we know him!' But I had already made a face like the Chief of Police, and called out in his voice, 'Who gave you per-r-r-mission to hold this meeting?' And Lord! I hear them laughing already. Well, then I began, I tell you, to imitate everything I know--the governor, the Archpresbyter Izverzhensky, a saw, a little pig, a fly. They roared with laughter. They roared so that the earth trembled under my feet, so help me God. Even the men holding me had to laugh--a curse on them!--and let me go. They began to clap and applaud. Upon my word, here is Pantaleyev, he can testify, he saw everything." "True," said Pantaleyev in a hoarse voice. He was a dumpy person with eye-glasses, and wore a sleeveless jacket. "Yes, brother, they applauded," exclaimed Grokhotov in ecstasy. "Now, of course, I know myself; an artist, that's me. No doubt of it now. I may say I owe my life to my art. What else? It's very simple. A crowd can't be taken in by a mere joke." "The people have begun to be trusting," remarked Pantaleyev pensively and strangely. "Their hearts have greatly softened." "That's true. See what they're doing, eh?" Grokhotov exclaimed quietly. Then he added in a whisper. "Everything is above-board now. Everywhere the persons under surveillance, our old acquaintances, are in the very first rank. What does it mean, eh?" "Is the joiner's name Zimin?" Yevsey asked again. "Matvey Zimin, case of propaganda work in the furniture factory of Knop," replied Pantaleyev with stern emphasis. "He ought to be in prison," said Yevsey, dissatisfied. Grokhotov whistled merrily. "In prison? Don't you know they let everybody out of prison?" "Who?" "The people." Yevsey walked a few steps in silence. "Did they permit them?" "Why, yes." "Why did they do it?" "That's what I say, too. They oughtn't to have permitted them," said Pantaleyev. His glasses moved on his broad nose. "What a situation! The authorities do not think about the people at all." "Did they release everybody?" asked Klimkov. "Everybody." Pantaleyev's hoarse voice was stern, his nostrils dilated. "And there have already been a number of unpleasant encounters. Chasin, for instance, had to threaten to shoot off his revolver, because he was hit in the eye. He was quietly standing off on one side, when suddenly a lady comes up, and cries out, 'Here's a spy!' Inasmuch as Chasin cannot imitate animals, he had to defend himself with a weapon; which isn't possible for everybody either. Not everybody carries a revolver about with him." "It's been decided to give all of us revolvers."